Gemotions

The air in the museum felt thick and heavy. He trailed his fingers along the smooth surface of the exhibit wall. He’d envisioned his research on ancient pottery being displayed here. Now it was some other scholar's name that was written on the placard.

He'd spent years meticulously cataloging the fragments, pouring over the history of each piece. He felt an overwhelming sense of injustice, a deep anger that simmered just beneath the surface. He felt small, insignificant. He hated the way his limbs felt like lead. He wanted to go home and hide.

He couldn't even bring himself to enjoy the rest of the displays. The joy of discovery was gone, replaced by a bitter, pervasive disappointment.